Between
by Rossi
Summary: Midnight Nation - There's a place where the forgotten people go.


[Midnight Nation] Fading Away. (1/1) PG  
  
By Rossi.  
  
Disclaimer: Midnight Nation and its concepts belong to J. Michael Straczynski and Top Cow/Image comics. 'On The Turning Away' belongs to Pink Floyd from their 'Momentary Lapse of Reason' album (Sony Music, 1987) No profit, only homage.  
  
Rating: PG - what you might call 'disturbing themes'.  
  
Feedback: Always welcome, no matter what shape. Rossifics@yahoo.com.au  
  
For Indigo, for getting me hooked on Midnight Nation in the first place, and Seraph, for telling me to put this CD on last night.  
  
Yes, it is sort of a songfic. I'm sorry.  
  
__________________  
  
They are the ones who slipped between the cracks. The dispossessed. The forgotten. The unimportant.  
  
The hopeless.  
  
***  
  
Howdy. You're new around here, ain'tcha? Yeah, it's that easy to tell. You've got that look about you, like you're not sure if you're waking or dreaming. Like this is some kind of nightmare.  
  
"On the turning away  
  
From the pale and downtrodden  
  
And the words they say  
  
Which we don't understand  
  
Don't accept that what's happening  
  
Is just another case of others suffering  
  
Or you'll find that you're joining in  
  
The turning away."  
  
That? Oh, that's Jake. He used to be a musician. Got a nice voice on him, hasn't he? From what I hear tell, he grew up in a small Midwest town, came to LA with nothing more than his guitar and a dream of the big-time. By all accounts, he tried hard, got himself thrown out of just about every recording studio and record label in town.  
  
"It's a sin that somehow  
  
Light is changing to shadow  
  
And casting its shroud  
  
Over all we have known  
  
Unaware of how the ranks have grown  
  
Driven on by a heart of stone  
  
We could find that we're all alone  
  
In the dream of the proud."  
  
In the end, trying wasn't enough. Talent wasn't enough. Not in a town where everyone wanted a piece of the limelight, their fifteen minutes of fame. Jake wasn't greedy enough, wasn't hard enough, to claw his way up the greasy pole. He was too nice, I guess.  
  
But he had to stay. He'd burned all his bridges to come here, couldn't go home a failure; young pride's a terrible thing. Soon enough, his money ran out and he got thrown out of the rat-hotel that was the cheapest accommodation in town. But Jake was resourceful. He started hanging out at the malls, the bus stations, busking. He'd ask people for requests, make a game out of it; if he knew the song, they had to give him something. If not, well, they could go their way. A lot did any way.  
  
"On the wings of the night  
  
As the daytime is stirring  
  
Where the speechless unite  
  
In a silent accord  
  
Using words you will find are strange  
  
And mesmerised as they light the flame  
  
Feel the new wind of change  
  
On the wings of the night."  
  
He did okay at first. Made enough to keep body and soul together, keep himself in guitar strings. But after a while, the requests stopped coming in. The coins stopped coming in. It seemed folks were too busy, too important, for music. The novelty had worn off, in a town where everything has to be shiny and new, the Next Big Thing. Jake would sit there, playing until his fingers bled, singing until he went hoarse, but it didn't matter. It was like they couldn't see him, after a while. And that's how he came to be here, in the place between. Just sort of. faded away.  
  
"No more turning away  
  
From the weak and the weary  
  
No more turning away  
  
From the coldness inside."  
  
No, it's not a new story. Not for this place. People stopped seeing us, until no-one _could_ see us any more. The papers talk about the invisible population, but they don't know the half of it. All of us here, all our stories are the same. No-one cared. No-one noticed. And we just. faded away. Came here, where we scratch out a living on discarded junk.  
  
"Just a world that we all must share  
  
It's not enough just to stand and stare  
  
Is it only a dream that there'll be  
  
No more turning away?"  
  
It's getting dark. You'd better come with me. I've got a place you can stay, at least for tonight. It's not good to be out at night, In Between.  
  
It's not safe.  
  
The End. 


End file.
